Final Fantasy XII: The Rogue Judge
by Capn Skillet
Summary: A judge is found dead, and the Empire has begun to lay down the law on the streets of Rabanastre.  A young hunter aspires to make his city a better place to live.  Rated T for violence.


**Prologue**

The muscular man hung by his chained wrists in a cell, wearing only a tattered pair of pants. His mouth was gagged, and his body had many stripes from beatings by his captors. This man was not used to being in chains. He was used to placing others in chains, being a Judge in the land of Dalmasca. However, this judge had been on the bad list of a very dangerous clan of thieves.

Footsteps echoed down the passage leading to the Judge's cell, and a figure emerged in front of the bars. The man unlocked the cell door and entered, approaching the chained up judge. The captor brought his face just in front of the Judge's, the same face the prisoner had seen for many days as his tormentor. A single grey eye glared from beneath a furrowed black brow, as the captor's other eye was covered with a black patch.

"How long can you hold out, _your honor_," the man with the eye patch said mockingly. "All we require is your signature, and we will let you go. We're not really fond of you Judges any way." The man brought up a black-gloved hand, which matched his mostly black garb and ripped away the tape over the judge's mouth.

After a grunt of pain and heavy breaths, the judge answered. "I told you. I will not be intimidated into legalizing terrorism!"

The man in black brought up his hand as if to backhand the judge, which would have left more marks upon his face due to the spiked bracers he wore, obviously used to deflect weapons. However, he stopped his motion and smirked. "Then I must send a message to your lot in general." The man drew a black ninja sword from his back.

"You're making a big mistake!" the judge yelled. "You will all be rooted out and killed if I am not returned alive! You will…"

His words were cut short as his throat was slashed out with the black sword's blade.

"We are the future, your honor," said the man in black, wiping his blade clean before returning it to his sheath. "Your kind will soon be obsolete."

**Chapter 1 – Aspirations**

The entourage continued to parade down the street, ensuring that everyone saw them. Another judge had entered Rabanastre, the replacement for Judge Jerek, who had been missing and then found dead. He strode down the street on his fine chocobo, flanked on either side by Bangaa Templars, their armor and spears glittering in the morning sun. Judge Seraph had promised stricter laws and greater enforced order.

"When respect for even a Judge is lost," Seraph had said in his speech earlier that morning, "then measures must be taken. Those responsible for the death of Judge Jerek have identified themselves as the Nightwings. Anyone found in any way to be affiliated with this terrorist group will be considered guilty of treason against the Empire. There is only one penalty for treason, and that is the gallows."

This speech also included details of more strict patrols by armed guards and the Judges themselves, as well as a night curfew. Indeed, the city of Rabanastre was basically now under martial law. Judge Seraph passed through the streets daring any to oppose his ruling.

A young man had been watching the Judge pass by from the doorway of the Sandsea, the local tavern. He appeared to be about eighteen years old and fairly thin but with good muscle tone. His black hair was somewhat unkempt, and several strands of it hung about his face. He stood a little under six feet tall and wore a pair of baggy brown pants and a long tan colored jacket that he normally wore open. A necklace of some type of animal teeth adorned his chest.

"I would question who the real terrorists are," said the young man, who decided it was safe enough to move out into the street after the Judge was a good distance away.

"They're just trying to protect us, Asher," said a gutteral voice from behind the young man. A bangaa with grey skin and a vest of scale armor walked out of the Sandsea and stood next to the hume Asher.

"I'd rather protect myself," Asher replied to his bangaa friend.

Asher Coruven the hume and Goroth the bangaa were hunting partners, and they had recently begun to make a name for themselves in the area. They had taken out several marks together, earning them the thanks and respect of many merchants who traveled the east and west roads through Rabanastre. A long spear protruded over the right shoulder of the bangaa, while the hume's bow and quiver of arrows adorned his own back.

"If I were a judge," Asher continued. "I would make the people love me, not hate me."

"Perhaps you can be a Judge some day," Goroth replied. "I'd serve as one of your templars."

"And you'd be a good one," said Asher. "I'd wager that you could hold your own against any of the current ones."

"I doubt it," Goroth humbly replied. "They're the best. Sure I can handle a few wolves and cactoids, but fighting against Nightwings is another matter."

"Just a wolf of a different kind," said Asher. "So what do you think of this latest mark posted?"

"It's strange to see a wyvern near Rabanastre," said Goroth. "They are very dangerous foes. Your aim will have to be true or we could be in trouble."

"Oh it will be," said the confident Asher. "Just be ready with that stick of yours when I ground the sucker. If he gets close to me, I doubt my dagger will help much."

"Ain't I always ready?" Goroth asked. "You ready to go?"

"Soon as I stop by Migelo's," Asher replied. "We need to stock up on supplies, and Penelo might be there."

Goroth chuckled. "You may as well give it up, Asher. You know she's gonna go for that Vaan kid."

"Eh whatever," said Asher. "He spends his time cleaning rats from the sewers while we're the ones making the roads safer."

"Well I definitely sleep better knowing that no rats will come crawling out of my toilet," said Goroth.

The two shared a laugh as they headed down the street toward Migelo's sundries.


End file.
